For my daughters
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| Many little bees hidden on that tree... A street in Monte Carlo (Photo: Angeliki Bouliari) |
Do not slide, just climb up.
Do not dive, to reach the dark.
Just gently swim among your feelings.
Let them caress you and take you far.
Let them kiss you and show you who
you really are.
Watch ecstatic the bleeding sunset,
the transient glory,
the tragic disappearance.
But love warmly the early dawn,
the morning dew
on the cool green leaves.
Get sad with the autumn naked trees.
You can even let your tears drop.
But let them feed you with the hope
of that first newborn bee,
on the flower of your plant,
in the pot at your window-sill.
Can you hear the happy buzz of the bee?
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